


All's Fair in Love and War (And Turnabout's Fair Play)

by GalahadWilder



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Justice, Lila downfall, Lila's Warped Perspective, comeuppance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-08-13 21:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20180848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/pseuds/GalahadWilder
Summary: Lila Rossi can manipulate anyone—or so she thinks. She really shouldn’t have underestimated the deviousness of the boy who was born in the media spotlight.





	1. A Game That Two Can Play

Lila Rossi doesn’t have friends.

Well—it would be more accurate to say that _nobody_ has friends. At least not the way it’s portrayed in movies and TV. People use each other for mutual advantage, that’s all it is. Promises are lies, trust is a fallacy of the naïve, and “friendship” is just another form of leverage. Honestly, she feels sorry for everyone who deludes themselves that their interpersonal relationships actually mean anything—they’d turn on each other without a second thought at the slightest hint of an advantage.

Everyone lies. Lila Rossi is the only person she knows who’s honest enough to admit it to herself.

She left guilt behind a long time ago; why feel guilty about something everyone does, just because she’s better at it? Dupain-Cheng’s the only one who can give her a run for her money, what with her false sweetness and the obvious fixation on social climbing that is her obsession with Adrien—an obsession that everyone else seems to believe is genuine romance, deluded morons—but she seems not to have the guts to actually make a move the way Lila does, so replacing her at the top wasn’t even child’s play. And now she’s got Adrien wrapped around her finger. It wasn’t even hard. Poor boy is the most trusting and oblivious person she’s ever met; she could probably kill someone in front of him and he’d take the heat to protect her from jail. So chivalrous. So dumb.

Lila Rossi is queen of the school, and things couldn’t be better.

* * *

She walks into Lycee with her usual bright smile painted onto her face, excited for a new day with her “friends.” She walks with a bounce in her step, full of joy and pep, and waves towards her classmates. “Hi everyone!”

Nino sees her first. Quiet, trusting Nino, who’s willing to do anything to get his music known, Nino who... Wait. That’s—that’s not his usual expression.

Nino Lahiffe catches her eye, and his face twists in disgust. He nudges his girlfriend—Alya, so obsessed with Ladybug she was willing to tank her credibility for an interview with someone even tangentially related—turns toward her, sets her jaw, narrows her eyes. That’s a killing face.

Lila halts mid-step. What are they doing? Did the figure it out? No, impossible. They’re too stupid for that. Marinette must’ve done something. Well, no matter, she can always—

Lila suddenly realizes that the entire courtyard has fallen silent. And, more than that: everyone is looking at her.

She turns, both directions, trying to read their expressions, but none of them can meet her eyes. A few of them look back up, hate burning in their gazes, and she feels her heart begin to press against her ribs. Something’s happened. Something big. And she’s out of the loop.

She looks back toward Nino, who has crossed his arms and stepped between her and Adrien. Like a barrier. Like he’s... protecting him?

Lila steps forward, and she can feel the hairs on her neck stand up higher. The tension ratchets up another notch.

She looks to Adrien—sweet, caring, _stupid_ Adrien—and he smiles. Smiles in that beatific way of his, like there’s absolutely nothing going on in his head, like he’s just watched her shoot his dog and is now wondering whose fault it is that his dog has a bullet in it. But there—just for a moment—

Is she imagining the cruel fire in his eyes?

Marinette wanders through the school’s front gate, grumbling under her breath about something—the earliness of the morning, maybe—and Lila snaps around to look at her. The girl jerks back, confused, then her gaze flicks around the courtyard.

Lila sneers at her where no one can see. Marinette looks at her flatly, then pushes past her and walks toward _Lila’s_ friends, leaving the Italian girl slack-jawed and frozen.

Alya glares at Lila, taking Marinette under her arm, and then her gaze softens as she turns to the smaller girl. Starts mumbling something. Marinette’s jaw quivers—she looks like she’s about to cry.

Lila takes one more quick look around the courtyard, then starts walking toward Adrien. He’ll sort this out. One flutter of her eyelashes and a pout of her lips and everything will be taken care of. Boys are so easy, sometimes.

Except Nino pushes Adrien backward with one arm, and now Alya is hiding Marinette behind her too, and that little Chinese hussy has _Adrien’s_ hand in hers—_Lila’s_ Adrien. She’s saying something Lila can’t hear, something not particularly important, when Alya clears her throat.

“Lila,” she says. “I think... you should stay away from us. For a while.”

“What?” Lila says. She shallows her breath and widens her eyes, a surefire way to fake tears... yep, there they are, gathering at the edges of her eyes. “Why—what did Marinette say?”

Alya shakes her head. “Marinette has nothing to do with this,” she says. She raises a hand, as if to comfort Lila, then her fingers clench. She grimaces, and her hand withdraws. “Just—just stay away.”

“Alya!” Lila reaches out to Alya, only to have her hand knocked away.

“You’re not welcome here,” Alya growls, before turning around and walking back to her boyfriend.

Lila stares after her, utterly flabbergasted. What... what happened? There’s no way she’s been exposed—nobody ever bothers to do the research (except that snake Dupain-Cheng, but it wasn’t like anyone was listening to her). Lila looks around for support, but again, nobody is willing to look at her with anything other than disdain.

Her phone goes off—Adrien’s text tone. She narrows her eyes in confusion, reaching into her backpack.

**Adrien: ** _I warned you what would happen if you kept hurting my friends. You probably should have listened. :)_

Another text comes through, this one with a link to a news article. She clicks it open.

** _Agreste Rocks Paris with Shocking Interview: “She Broke Into My House”_ **

She barely manages to read the first few lines before it catches up with her. There’s no names, but anyone who knows her will know exactly who he’s talking about; there’s too much detail for it to be anyone else. He’s clearly referring to her when he mentions a stalker who “scares me so much that sometimes I make terrible excuses to leave class just to get away from her.” He talks about how she pretended to be a fox hero to get his attention; how she took that kiss selfie with him without his permission; how she’s tried to kill him multiple times under the influence of an Akuma.

None of what he says is false. All of it is verifiable. And no matter what she says against it... everyone in Paris trusts Adrien Agreste. He’s the golden boy, the darling son. If it comes down to his word versus hers, there is no way in hell anyone in this city is going to believe her.

In one move, he’s crucified her, and she has no idea why.


	2. You Can’t Outfox the Devil

> We’re sorry! The page you’re looking for doesn’t exist. (Maybe it got Cataclysmed?)

Her interview got removed from the Ladyblog.

Its such a small thing to focus on, with everything else going on— and that’s just the stuff she can _see_. It’s all over the news: celebrity scandal, the brave young model speaks out, the sob story about his mother’s disappearance and how that vulnerability makes people think they can use him, and, and, Golden Child Adrien Agreste has _thrown her under the bus_. It’s all over his fanpages too. They’re closing in on her—nobody has her name yet, but at least one of the fanpages has figured out that she’s the girl from the Instagram photo. It’s only a matter of time. Until they learn her name. Until what’s left of her reputation is torn to bits in front of an audience of millions.

And yet the only thing she can think about is that Alya took her interview down.

That video had meant so much to both of them. For Alya, it was a springboard into legitimacy—an interview with Ladybug’s best friend! 100% exclusive! Even the actual Ladybug interview hadn’t gotten her that many views; Ladybug had given interviews before. This was a new. This was a _scoop_.

For Lila, it had been her moneymaker. Her establishing moment. Screw Prince Ali and Jagged Stone: _Ladybug_ was Paris’ big news, her sweetheart, her greatest celebrity. If Lila wanted popularity, she couldn’t have asked for a better lever.

Why did Alya take the video down? It’s not like Lila had done anything to _her_. She may have been loyal to Adrien, but—but taking the video down is an _overreaction_. Isn’t it? It did so much for Alya, wouldn’t she have left it up?

And now it’s gone. One interview from Adrien and everything she’s built so carefully is collapsing under her feet. He’s—he’s so much more devious than she ever expected.

She leans her head back against the bathroom stall wall, tapping refresh on her phone browser. The bell rings for second period. She ignores it.

> We’re sorry! The page you’re looking for doesn’t exist. (Maybe it got Cataclysmed?)

Adrien is so much more _devious_ than she ever knew. She doesn’t—she doesn’t understand. He’s been playing her since day one? Him? Playing _her_? Why?

God, they could’ve—if she’d know he was this smart, they could’ve been _perfect_ together. Combined their efforts. Become the king and queen of the media scene. And instead he’s tanked that for... what, exactly? She can’t even place it. Her reputation hasn’t just been ruined in Paris. The second anyone finds her name this is going to follow her wherever she goes.

Unless this was Dupain-Cheng’s idea. Do her hooks in him go that deep? God, that would—that would make so much sense! Of course he’d do whatever she asked! Of course she’d destroy Lila just for getting near her boytoy!

Except... except she seemed surprised. Genuinely. Lila can tell when people are faking that and Dupain-Cheng _wasn’t_. This was—this was Adrien. Adrien ruined her.

Akuma make a very particular sound that no other butterfly in the world does. It’s hard to notice; in fact, most other people in Paris aren’t even aware of it. But she’s spent so long seeking them out, she memorized the thrum of malevolent power that she hears more in the base of her skull than her ears.

She holds up her phone, not even looking as the butterfly alights on it and bursts into motes of violet-black light.

_Signorina Rossi._

”Hawkmoth,” she responds, her voice flat.

_Betrayed by someone you thought you owned,_ Hawkmoth says. _Blindsided by someone you could not control._ She can hear the smirk in his voice. _What are you going to do about it?_

She tilts her head up towards the bathroom window, as if she were speaking to God. And, in a way, she is. “I’m going to destroy Adrien Agreste,” she growls.

She squeezes her eyes shut, braces herself for the rush of power. Waits a single, heart-stopping second while Hawkmoth prepares—

The power doesn’t come. The transformation doesn’t come.

She opens her eyes. “Hawkmoth?” she whispers.

There’s silence from the other end of the connection. Then: _The boy is off-limits._

”What?” she says.

_ **THE BOY IS OFF-LIMITS.** _

His voice thunders through her mind, cutting into her pulse, and for a second she cannot breathe. She’s going to die.

“Wh-why?” she finally gasps. “Gorizilla threw him off a building! Riposte was going to cut him in _half_!”

_...Circumstances have changed._

”_What_ circumstances?” she shrieks. “Your statue nearly stabbed him to death at the Grevin Museum last week!

Astounding. She can actually _hear_ Hawkmoth blink. _He was at the museum? _he says, sounding weaker than she’s ever heard him.

”Listen,” she growls. “Whatever you need him for, just _tell_ me. I can bring him to you. You can do _whatever you want_—I just want to _see. Him. Punished!_”

_I made a promise_, Hawkmoth says.

Lila shoots to her feet, slams her had on the wall of the stall. “FUCK YOUR PROMISE!” she screams. “Give me my power, Hawkmoth, or I will make you regret it!”

He’s utterly silent for a moment, and she wonders whether he’s withdrawn the butterfly, like he did on Heroes’ Day. When she wasn’t even halfway done. Then... his voice returns, _dripping_ with gleeful malice.

_Remember, **Empathy**_, he sneers (and her heart speeds up as she realizes he’s naming her, he’s giving her the power, she _won_), _this is what **you** asked for._

Lila grins as her body explodes into black smoke.


	3. There's a Hole in my Soul, Can You Fill It?

There’s nothing quite like the heady feeling of power that comes with being Akumatized. Her whole body feels like it’s been plugged into a live wire, and she wants to laugh, to rejoice, to _exult_ as she looks at herself in the mirror. She has power again.

Empathy looks almost exactly like Lila Rossi. She’s a masterpiece of subtlety, she thinks, pressing her fingers around her chin—her hair is maybe half a shade lighter, her eyes a little more flat, but if she hadn’t been looking for it she’d never have noticed.

The susurrus of sensations in the back of her mind grows, then dims, as Mireille passes by the bathroom door. Empathy grins. Hawkmoth has given her his _own_ power, the power to read emotions. She was a master manipulator before. She can only imagine how much better she’ll be now.

And nobody will be able to blindside her again.

She straightens, brushing her hair out of her face with her fingers. Akumatization refreshed her makeup, purged the bags under her eyes, so she looks perfect. She’s ready to go. She can’t go subtle—if she wants to salvage her reputation, she needs to _ruin_ Adrien and Marinette, and she needs to do it quickly. If she can take out Adrien’s reputation, if she can destroy people’s trust in him…

_You’re not the only one who can play the victim, Agreste. And I’ve been doing it since I got here._

As she prepares to leave the bathroom, she notices a growing sensation in the back of her mind—concern. It feels odd. She’s… worried? About herself? It feels kind of removed, like—

The bathroom door opens, and in steps Rose—gentle, sweet, _naïve_ Rose, and Empathy realizes exactly what’s happening. She’s feeling Rose’s emotions as if they were her own.

It’s… strange. Unfamiliar. Rose’s worry about something other than herself is something Empathy has never experienced before, but… well, she’s always known Rose was a bit dim. She just… revises her estimation of the girl’s intelligence slightly downward.

“Lila?” Rose says, her voice as soft as her footfalls. “Are you okay?” Her concern pulses in the back of Empathy’s mind, mixed in with fear and confusion and a stubborn determination to push those things aside. Lila can’t get a good enough read on her to know _what, _exactly, she’s worried about, but she can make a good guess.

She’s afraid that Lila is as bad as Adrien said. She’s afraid that she misread her. But she's _also_ afraid that maybe Lila is perfectly normal, and kind, and Adrien may not be the golden boy they all believed him to be. She’s afraid that one of her friends is lying to her.

And now Empathy knows _exactly_ which buttons to push.

She forces out a sob. “I don’t know,” she chokes out. “I thought—Adrien always said he was my _friend_.”

Empathy’s gut squeezes in an unfamiliar manner as anguish spikes in her mind, but it mixes with triumph that her words _worked_, and she fights down a grin. Check.

“What happened?” Rose says, and Empathy’s heart pounds in her chest. (It’s rather unpleasant.)

“I don’t even _know_,” Empathy mumbles, doing her best to appear like she’s trying not to cry. “All of that stuff was _his_ idea, I don’t know why he’d…” She sobs, letting Rose fill in the rest.

Rose is confused, but Empathy can feel the doubt plant in her mind, and that’s a start. If she pushes too far, tries to suggest conclusions herself, Rose will suspect her. Better to let her come to her own conclusions.

Then Rose’s confusion hardens into resolve. “We should talk to Adrien!” she says brightly. “I’m sure the two of you can clear this up.”

Empathy’s eyes widen. _No_, she thinks. _That cannot be allowed to happen_. If Rose talks to them both at the same time, the whole thing will fall apart. “Um,” she says. “I—I’m… I don’t think I can face him right now.”

Rose’s sympathy burns in her mind, forcing her to feel the very fear she’s faking. “Oh,” Rose squeaks.

Empathy smiles, trying to make it look forced instead of victorious. “I’m… I’ll be okay,” she says.

* * *

The hallways are much worse than the bathroom was. There are too many people—everyone’s nervous, everyone’s panicking. Empathy can feel her nerves buzz, her hands shake, and—_God_, how do people like Rose _live_ like this?

The pressure on her mind is astounding—she can’t tell anyone’s minds apart from each other, can’t pick out which sensations belong to whom. She feels like she’s drowning under the waves of anxiety that her schoolmates are throwing off like head from a busted lightbulb—everyone’s worried about _something_, and she can’t separate her own feelings from anyone else’s. She wants to—she wants to hide. To run back to the bathroom and not come back out, ever, not until everyone has left.

The tsunami of hatred that slams into her every time anyone looks in her direction is stunning, too. And completely unexpected. She hasn’t _done_ anything to most of these people—or at least nothing most of them can prove; why do _they_ all care about Adrien? Some of these people have never even interacted with him!

Her throat squeezes in on itself as she feels the hatred in her mind grow into something dark and violent. She wants to—she needs to be _punished_. She wants to _hurt_.

_Keep it together_, she thinks. _That’s not your thought._

Tracking down Sabrina is difficult, to say the least. She can’t look anyone in the eye without feeling a rise of loathing for herself, and she keeps having to steer clear of people’s faces, but luckily Sabrina is always wearing those ugly sweater vests.

”Sabrina!” Empathy gasps, yanking on the sleeve of the redhead’s blouse. “I need to talk to you!”

Sabrina turns to her in rage, with what Empathy is sure is invective on her lips, but that rage quickly dies away when she locks eyes with Empathy, replaced with—what _is_ that? Is that—is that _pity_?

”Oh, Lila,” Sabrina murmurs, and Empathy suddenly realizes how she looks to the other girl right now—she’s trembling and sweaty, and she must look as much like a cornered animal as the crash of everyone’s emotions is making her feel.

“He’s going after Chloé next,” Empathy gasps, and is rewarded with a sudden rush of _mind-wrenching panic_ from Sabrina that makes her want to drop to her knees and scream. 

“What do you mean?” Sabrina says, her panic bleeding from her like blood in the water, and Empathy knows she’s guessed right—she found Sabrina’s weak point. _This_ is where to keep pushing. 

Empathy grits her teeth, forcing through Sabrina’s overwhelming fear. “Listen—Brina,” she says, risking Chloé’s nickname for the other girl. Spike of annoyance. “Sorry, sorry, that’s—sorry,” Empathy mutters. Apparently that nickname is reserved for Chloé _only_. “Sabrina.” 

Sabrina’s annoyance subsides, much to Empathy’s relief—it’s replaced with gratefulness, that “Lila” noticed how she was feeling, and that “Lila” was accommodating. Which makes this a perfect moment to strike.

”Adrien—he did this on purpose,” Empathy says. “He tricked me into—he told me he loved me, he tricked me into—and then he…” She grips Sabrina’s shoulders. “He’s been doing the same to Chloé,” she says. “I just found out. He’s going to ruin her.”

Sabrina’s emotions are mixed, confusing, much to Empathy’s delight. There’s jealousy in there, and relief, and anger, and shock, and possessiveness. And… wow. Sabrina doesn’t want to be just Chloé’s _friend_.

Which means she _wants_ to believe Empathy. Wants to believe anything that will push Chloé away from Adrien.

“Chloé won’t listen to me,” Empathy says. “You need to get her away from him.” She squeezes Sabrina’s shoulder. “You have to _warn her_.”

Sabrina’s shock grows, almost overwhelms Empathy’s mind, until it hardens into something else. Something shaky and quiet. “Okay,” Sabrina says. “I’ll—I’ll make sure she knows.”

* * *

Empathy flexes her fingers. Two practice runs down, two rumors planted, though she has no idea if Rose will bear fruit. Enough practice, though—it’s time for the big run.

Alya Césaire.

Empathy skips the next class period: showing her face in front of the people who hate her is only going to make them angrier. She needs to make them think she’s hurting worse than she is.

And besides, in her current state, she’s not sure she’d be able to hold herself together for an entire class period with all of her classmates’ insipid emotions cavorting about her skull. What was Hawkmoth _thinking_? This ability—it’s useful, yeah, but there’s too many drawbacks. It _hurts_. It hurts too much to use it the way she should be able to.

It must’ve been an accident. She wants to yell at him for his incompetence, but the lack of the pressure indicating his voice in her head means that he must’ve detransformed, so no matter what she says, he can’t hear her.

Instead, she shuts herself away from the school and all their chaotic and useless emotions and goes over what she knows about Alya.

She’ll admit, Alya taking Adrien’s side—and taking down Lila’s interview—was a bit of a shock. Unexpected. But now that she’s had time to think about it, it makes sense: Alya Césaire is a journalist, and as a diplomat’s daughter, Lila _knows_ journalists. They’ll do anything for a good story, and Adrien’s story is juicy beyond belief. Better than Lila’s was. Alya siding with Adrien makes sense now; she’s chasing the story, and she needed to get rid of the interview in order to keep consistency, keep her reputation.

Which means all Empathy needs to do to sway the reporter back to her side is give her a juicier story. One that implicates Adrien, and clears Lila. Alya won’t be able to resist, and she’ll drop Adrien like a hot potato as soon as Empathy gives her what she _really_ wants.

And with her new powers, Empathy can figure out exactly what that is.

* * *

Empathy skirts the side of the cafeteria, trying to hide out on the edges of the waves of overwhelming emotion. There are simply _too many people _in the cafeteria, and any one of them seeing her could trigger a debilitating spike of hatred that would pin her to the floor. She’d prefer to get Alya alone, but the girl is a social butterfly—she _never_ goes anywhere by herself. The cafeteria is the only place loud enough to give them any privacy.

“Guys, guys!” she hears Alya shout. “Give Adrien some space!”

There’s a crowd gathered off to the side of the cafeteria, and in the middle of it, a waterfall of red-brown hair. Alya is standing on a chair, pushing people away with a—well, Empathy can’t tell _what_ that expression is, she’s too far away to get a good read. She’s with Adrien, and Nino, and Dupain-Cheng, and the rest of the class seems to be crowded around them, but at Alya’s words they begrudgingly back away.

Adrien says something that Empathy can’t hear, only to be interrupted by Nino, who says something in that annoyingly kind tone he makes when he’s trying to get into someone’s good graces. Dupain-Cheng looks away from them both with downcast eyes, and Ivan adds something, turns around, and begins to clear the rest of the class away.

Then he locks eyes with Empathy, and she doesn’t even need powers to feel the force of his anger. She shrinks, trying to appear nonthreatening.

He leans over toward his pig of a girlfriend and murmurs something in her ear. Immediately, the rest of the class turns to look at Empathy, and the surge of their collective hatred (where is this _coming _from? She did _nothing_ to most of them! Or at least nothing they can prove) pushes her bodily against the wall.

She wants to hurt. Instead, she bolts from the room.

* * *

Lila has spent enough lunches with Alya that Empathy knows which bathroom she prefers. Without any ability to actually _go into _the cafeteria, she’s forced to wait for Alya to come to _her. _She’s already spent the whole day in the bathroom, hiding from all the goddamn emotions that are pressing on her mind.

_Remember, Empathy, this is what **you** asked for._

“Hawkmoth,” she growls. “You want me to win? _Help me out here.”_

There’s no answer. Of _course_ there’s no answer. She wants to—she wants to—

Actually, she feels… pretty good. A bit vindictively satisfied, maybe, but…

Wait that’s—

The door to the bathroom swings open and Alya steps through.

“Alya!” Empathy cries, grabbing at the other girl’s arm. “We need to talk—!”

Her sentence is cut off in a shiver as Alya’s eyes turn toward her, and everything Empathy has felt over the course of the morning jerks into perspective as Alya’s _blood-curdling rage slams into her like a truck dropped from orbit._

“Rossi,” Alya snaps, her voice cold enough that Empathy actually feels the chill strike into the marrow of her bones. “I told you to stay away.”

Empathy gasps. “I know, I _know_,” she says. God, she must’ve risked more damage to Alya’s reputation than she thought if the girl is _this_ angry. “I’m _sorry. _But—you need to hear this!”

Alya’s expression doesn’t change, and Empathy feels her veins catch fire as the other girl’s rage and hatred presses down on her. _Come on, Rossi_, she thinks. _Just tough it out a few more seconds. Then she’ll be on your side again._

“Alya, Adrien is _stalking Ladybug!_” Empathy hisses.

She’s expecting Alya’s anger to instantly turn to interest. Empathy knows how Alya is about Ladybug, and this is a truly juicy scoop. It’s everything Alya could possibly want—

Why is she getting _angrier?_

“Why should I believe a single word you say?” Alya says.

Empathy is shaking with Alya’s rage at her words; she wants to smack something, to punch something, to pound her fist into the sink until the porcelain snaps. _Not mine not mine not mine—_

“Adrien was trying to discredit me,” she says. “I found out he was using me to get to Ladybug and—”

Bile surges up her throat, cutting her off mid-word.

“_He_ was using _you?” _Alya hisses. “Do you think I’m an _idiot?”_

Empathy shivers. “He—I found out he was—”

Alya snorts. “He was _what,_ Lila?”

This—this isn’t working. Why isn’t it—this is the biggest story that’s come across Alya’s nose in _months_, why isn’t she biting? Why isn’t she at least entertaining the idea? Alya’s emotions aren’t making any sense. There’s no interest at all!

“What—what are you—” Empathy gasps, her heart pushing up on her sternum. “_Why don’t you believe me?”_

It takes a moment for Empathy to realize the confusion she’s feeling isn’t just her own.

Alya steps back, horrified. “_Believe_ you?” she says. “You’ve been _attacking my friend _and _lying to me about it_ for **months.**”

Empathy’s stomach swoops. “Marinette—she’s lying to you, she’s—”

A piledriver blend of indignation, disbelief, amusement, disgust, and condescension crashes through Empathy’s forehead. Alya shakes her head. “Should’ve known,” she murmurs. “Mari _knew_. Of course she did.” Alya narrows her eyes, and suddenly Empathy wants to—drop to her knees and beg forgiveness from that stupid hussy? Protect that ridiculous blond asshole? She wants to—she wants to—

Alya—Alya is actually their friend. Alya actually _cares_ about them. No. Impossible. She can’t—she can’t be _wrong_, can she?

“Eat shit, Rossi,” Alya snarls, turning on her heel. “I’m gonna find another bathroom. _Don’t_ follow me.”

As her rage retreats, Empathy is left with only her own emotions in her head. And they’re unfamiliar ones. She’s—she’s lost, she’s confused, she’s... she’s relieved that she’s not feeling the self-destructive force of Alya’s rage, and yet it’s like there’s a hole in her chest, right where her heart goes. Something is wrong. Something is—something is missing. Something that Alya had, something that—

_No,_ she thinks. _I can’t be wrong. The—the powers are _**useless**. She collapses back against the wall, pressing her palms against her skull. _Hawkmoth_, she thinks, _what have you **done** to me?_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from the Lila anon are not welcome here and will be deleted unread.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr.](http://www.galahadwilder.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Now has a TVTropes page!.](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/AllsFairInLoveAndWarAndTurnaboutsFairPlay)


End file.
